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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26265451">Lovely</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eternal_Peace_is_Overrated/pseuds/Eternal_Peace_is_Overrated'>Eternal_Peace_is_Overrated</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Progress (Not Perfection) [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Umbrella Academy, The Umbrella Academy (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Dave is in denial, David "Dave" Katz Lives, David "Dave" Katz POV, Disassociation, Happy Ending, He Owns a Bookshop, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, It's really not that bad, M/M, Modern David "Dave" Katz, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Sad Boi Klaus, slight angst</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:53:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,815</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26265451</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eternal_Peace_is_Overrated/pseuds/Eternal_Peace_is_Overrated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The good days are beautiful.</p>
<p>But then there are the bad days. </p>
<p>The ones where Klaus is utterly, completely silent, fingers alternating between tapping a rhythm on his arm and squeezing it tightly, like he might just float away if he doesn’t have something to anchor him.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Or, where Klaus has his bad days, but Dave knows how to make them better.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Klaus Hargreeves &amp; David "Dave" Katz, Klaus Hargreeves/David "Dave" Katz</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Progress (Not Perfection) [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1906867</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>168</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Lovely</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello all! Once again, this baby got cranked out around 2 am, so I apologize for any mistakes but would love to hear any feedback you may have!</p>
<p>Thank you all for taking the time to read!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Klaus is...interesting. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s really the only thing Dave can think of to describe him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He slips into Dave’s bookshop like he belongs there (even though he really, really doesn’t), a hurricane draped in flowy skirts and smudged eyeliner. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As always, Klaus holds up a hand (</span>
  <em>
    <span>hello</span>
  </em>
  <span>) in greeting, but says nothing more, just shuffles between the shelves and tries to disappear. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So it’s one of the bad days, then. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave doesn’t quite know how to feel about his own immediate understanding, but he doesn’t dwell on it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>See, Klaus is loud. He’s loud, and he’s boisterous, and he talks a mile a minute. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Most days, he’ll saunter in, arms spread and palms out, and greet Dave with the most enthusiastic smile he thinks has ever been directed at him in his life. On days like that, he’ll slink up to the counter and lean his body across it, all long limbs and cat-like grace, and he’ll pratter on endlessly; sometimes, it’s about nothing at all. In fact, it’s usually about nothing at all. Klaus, Dave has noticed, is very good at talking endlessly about absolutely nothing important. On those days, he’ll scoop Mittens (the solid black alley cat with green big green eyes that Dave had, for some inexplicable reason taken to feeding and hadn’t been able to get rid of since) into his arms and smoothe a hand down her back while she purrs, and he’ll talk like he hasn’t talked to anyone in </span>
  <em>
    <span>years</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and whenever Dave asks a question or makes a comment that shows he was paying attention (Klaus is very difficult </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>to pay attention to), he positively </span>
  <em>
    <span>lights up</span>
  </em>
  <span>, childlike glee in his eyes, his smile somehow getting brighter and brighter until it’s blinding in its intensity. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On those days, the light in his eyes is bright and happy, pupils blown so wide the green of his irises is barely visible; he brings life, he brings joy, and Dave doesn’t think he even realizes it. Klaus makes heads turn and- objectively speaking, of course- Dave can see why. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On his good days, he’s...beautiful. Dave doesn’t think he’s ever used that word about another man before, but it’s the best one he can think of. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And some days, when he thinks Dave isn’t paying attention, Klaus </span>
  <em>
    <span>looks </span>
  </em>
  <span>at him, and for one breathless moment, it’s like the world stops turning. Dave doesn’t know how he does it, but it’s like everything about Klaus has gone still- even the perpetual tremors of his hands. Klaus has gone still, the world has stopped turning, and Dave feels naked and vulnerable and so helplessly trapped beneath the intensity of his gaze and for some odd, unexplainable reason, he absolutely adores it (</span>
  <em>
    <span>you know why</span>
  </em>
  <span>, a voice whispers in his head, but he shut that voice two years ago, when Klaus first stumbled into his store and Dave’s first thought was </span>
  <em>
    <span>god, he’s gorgeous</span>
  </em>
  <span>, before it was viciously shoved away by the echoing crack of his fathers belt). </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But then there are the bad days. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The ones where Klaus is utterly, completely silent, fingers alternating between tapping a rhythm on his arm and squeezing it tightly, like he might just float away if he doesn’t have something to anchor him. On days like </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>, no matter how few or far between they may be, Dave is truly, deeply </span>
  <em>
    <span>afraid</span>
  </em>
  <span> of what Klaus might do. On days like this, where Klaus tries to hide himself between the bookshelves and drags trembling hands through his hair, over and over again, and doesn’t utter a single word- Dave has learned only one thing helps, and that, no matter what, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>cannot. Stop. Talking</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>See, days like this, Klaus doesn’t react. He moves as if he’s a ghost, unaware of his surroundings, trembling like a leat, like even the slightest breeze might topple him, like putting one foot in front of the other is the hardest thing he’s ever done. On these days, Dave is the one who does the talking, and he talks about </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span>, grasping on to the most random things, anything he can because he truly believes Klaus might just...float away, if Dave’s voice isn’t there to ground him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave knows Klaus isn’t really listening, on days like this, that he’s nothing more than an unintelligible voice, but he </span>
  <em>
    <span>also </span>
  </em>
  <span>knows how grateful Klaus is to not be alone on days like this. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And so, when Klaus stumbles silently through the doors, feet dragging him in on autopilot, Dave starts talking. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s been a slow business day, and it’s only fifteen minutes until close, so Dave just locks the door behind Klaus and flicks the OPEN sign off, and starts telling Klaus about his day. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus, predictably, doesn’t answer, just lowers himself to the ground, back to the wall, squished between two bookshelves. He hugs his knees to his chest, eyes blank, lips moving over soundless words, and rocks slowly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sometimes, it can take hours for Klaus to come back to himself. Sometimes, nothing more than a few minutes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave has been talking for nearly an hour when he hears the startled intake of breath. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s always a moment of panic for Klaus, when he comes back to himself in a place he decidedly was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> before, and has no recollection of getting to. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave smiles, makes his way over to where Klaus is smushed against the wall, and offers a hand up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus stares at it, quietly uncomprehending, panic already dissipated (at this point, Dave is pretty sure Klaus knows the shop better than he does), before he reaches out and let’s Dave drag him to his feet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a familiar song and dance for them, and the feeling of Klaus’s warm, dry palm against his own absolutely does </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>make his heart race (dad's belt cracks again). </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi,” Klaus breathes, inches from his face (Dave didn’t think he realized Klaus was taller than him, just barely, until now), eyes flickering to their still joined hands, and then to Dave’s face and back again, until they meet eyes and Klaus is </span>
  <em>
    <span>looking </span>
  </em>
  <span>at him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As always, Dave freezes, but it’s Klaus who breaks the spell and looks away, taking his hand back and slipping to the side so he can get to the door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dave,” Klaus says, fingertips resting on the lock, eyes on Dave’s shoes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, Klaus?” Dave asks, finally turning to face him, trying to ignore the flutter of </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> in his stomach. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If I-” Klaus begins and then stops, looking conflicted. “Does it bother you?” he asks, instead of whatever it was he was going to ask before. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave frowns in confusion. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Does what bother me?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus doesn’t respond verbally, just motions to himself as a whole, and Dave really isn’t sure what he’s referring to. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus looks frustrated that he has to spell it out, lips pursing unhappily, before gritting out through clenched teeth, </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me.” He grasps his skirt between two trembling fingers and wiggles it. “This. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Me</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave shakes his head immediately, head tilted, eyes wandering over Klaus to take him in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s spring, and the weather has been lovely so far, and Klaus is more than happy to dress for it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s wearing a nice, flowy green skirt that matches his eyes- Dave would think it was silk if he didn’t know Klaus only wore things he had stolen or could get cheap at a second hand store; he’s paired it with a sheer lace button up that he’s tucked into the skirt, the shirt tight enough that it doesn’t bunch. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus ducks his head and nods, looking resigned as he unlocks the door and Dave realizes how truly disastrous </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>had gone, how misinterpreted his silence had been, and lurches forward in panic. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And, miracle of all miracles, Klaus does. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Dave says immediately. “No, it doesn’t bother me. Not in the slightest.” And he hesitates, unsure, before adding, “I think you look very pretty.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a single, momentous second, Dave thinks he has made a </span>
  <em>
    <span>grave</span>
  </em>
  <span> error- Klaus goes very, very still, wide eyes staring unblinkingly at Dave, hand (</span>
  <em>
    <span>goodbye</span>
  </em>
  <span>) paused halfway to the door handle, and just as Dave opens his mouth to scramble and take it back, Klaus </span>
  <em>
    <span>smiles</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and it’s one of the good ones- the ones that Dave can’t help but smile along with, swept up in the joy and the beauty and the warmth of it, damn well nearly swept up and right off his feet (dad’s belt cracks again, but Klaus’s smile is so </span>
  <em>
    <span>lovely</span>
  </em>
  <span> that Dave almost can’t hear it). </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why thank you, Dave,” Klaus says brightly, his mood so vastly different from mere seconds ago that it would have given Dave whiplash if he wasn’t used to it. “You sure do know how to treat a fella, don’t you?” Klaus continues, batting his eyelashes dramatically while Dave pretends he isn’t blushing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You must get all the cute boys, hm?” Klaus says with a grin but- it’s more than that, it’s a question, and Dave feels himself freeze for a moment, holding his breath in his chest before letting it out in a rush, a small smile tugging at his mouth (dad’s belt doesn’t crack again; Klaus tore it into strips and braided it into a necklace). </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” Dave murmurs. “I haven’t gotten any yet, but I think I’d like to.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus shoots him another one of </span>
  <em>
    <span>those </span>
  </em>
  <span>smiles, and skips back over to Dave, fingertips reaching out to ghost gently down Dave’s arm and to his hand, squeezing lightly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d be more than happy to help with that, soldier,” Klaus murmurs, and then leans forward and presses a kiss to the dog tags Dave had gotten into too much of a habit of wearing to </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>wear them, before skipping out the door, calling as he goes,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You had damn well better be a good cook, lovely, otherwise our first date will consist of microwavable noodles; Heaven’s know </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>certainly can’t cook.” Klaus pauses just outside the door, sticking his head back in with a soft smile. “I’ll see you soon, David.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then he’s whisking away in a swirl of green fabric. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s not a lot of certainties in Dave’s life, but there will </span>
  <em>
    <span>always </span>
  </em>
  <span>be two. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One: David Katz is </span>
  <em>
    <span>absolutely </span>
  </em>
  <span>a damn good cook- he’s fairly certain his mother would rise from the grave if her lessons had been forgotten. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Two: Klaus. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus is unstable, and afraid and so very lonely, but he’s also so much </span>
  <em>
    <span>more </span>
  </em>
  <span>than that, and Dave knows  he is lucky enough to be on the (</span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>short) list of people Klaus will do everything in his power to ensure he </span>
  <em>
    <span>keeps. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a sappy smile on his face that he can’t quite seem to get rid of, Dave quietly sets about locking up the store, already mentally preparing a fantastical meal for their date. </span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
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